


A Minute to Take Effect

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [121]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Doctor Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Bucky gets hurt on the job and really, really doesn't want to go to the ER.





	A Minute to Take Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Firefighter/Doctor. Prompt from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

“I’m fine,” you say for the hundredth time, which of course means that you’re not. “Really. I’m more singed than anything. There’s no frickin' need for all this.”

Your boss, Tony, clamps a hand on your shoulder and holds you down on the cot, the wheely bed they stuck you on in back the ambulance and rolled straight into the ER. “Stay down, Barnes, or so help me I’ll go find a needle full of something and shoot you with it.”

“But Captain, I--”

He leans over you, the soot on his cheeks sweated down into streaks. “This isn’t up for discussion, kiddo. I know you don’t think you’re hurt, but that’s the adrenaline talking. Your leg’s busted and your arm over here is looking distinctive toasted marshmallow so I’d suggest you shut the hell up until the doc gets here, ok?”

And lo and behold: here he is.

The privacy curtain at the foot of the bed slides back and a blond man steps in, tugging at the stethoscope around his neck, his nose buried deep in your chart. “Well, Mr. Barnes,” he says, “you’ve have a hell of a day, haven’t you?” He looks up, gives you a wan smile crowned by a pair of blue eyes. “What’d you do, jump out of a building or something?”

Tony snorts. “Don’t give him any ideas.”

“And you are?”

“Stark,” Tony says, sticking out his hand. “Ladder 9. I’m afraid this idiot is my responsibility.”

The doc takes it. “I’m Dr. Rogers,” he says. “And  it looks like you’ve done a hell of a job.”

“What can I tell you? Bucky thinks he’s a hero.” Tony cuts his eyes at you, smiles. “I’m just glad we got him out in one piece.”

“Eh,” the doc says. He hangs the chart on the edge of the bed and reaches for a pair of gloves. “More or less.”

It’s broken in two places, your right leg, and your right arm’s speckled with second-degree burns. Maybe it’s your adrenaline fading or maybe it’s the gentle, firm touch of Dr. Rogers’ fingers, but the fog around your body starts to leak away as you lie there staring up at fluorescent lights. The cloud of  _ oh shit _ that had descended back in that darkened stairwell as the ceiling gave way dissolves, leaving bright, awful pain in its wake.

You make a sound, swallow it, but the doc hears it anyway.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, Bucky. Are you hurting?”

It’s only when you nod your head that you realize you’re crying, tears soft salt against your dry lips.

Rogers’ face is right in yours. “Ok, ok. Let me call for something.” His palm is on your chest, a warm comforting weight. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

He’s gone forever, it feels like; abandons you to the pain. Tony’s squeezing your good hand and saying...something, words that feel like shadows, sentences you can’t really see, and for a moment, you wish that he’d kiss you, that he’d set aside his Captain’s hat and press his mouth against yours like he does at home. You can’t kiss in the firehouse or in a taxi, out on the street; there’s too much at stake for him, too many eyes eager to find any fault. He’s a captain now, your Tony, and a damn good one, but he’s aiming a lot higher, has the chance to be so much more, and on days when you resent it--not being able to hold his hand in public or take him out to dinner or spend more than a few hours with him a day--you remind yourself of that, how much good he’s going to do for the city when they add another bar to his shoulder. Or two.

But maybe there’s something in your eyes that scares him, some of the damage the fire wrote on your body, because Tony touches your face and stops talking; strokes a thumb over your mouth, through the tears, and leans over. Eases his lips against yours.

“It’s ok, baby,” he whispers. “I know that it hurts now. But everything’s gonna be all right. I promise.”

He kisses you again, humming, and then there’s a pinch in your arm, a thick, cold shove of something into your blood.

You startle, Tony does, but then the doc’s hands are on you both, holding you still, holding the picture in place.

“No,” Rogers says. “Be still. Give it a minute to take effect.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...cue the rapidly-approaching Stuckony.


End file.
